


i know enough about doubt and hating myself

by gannonic



Series: phemiecverse, or alternately, alfred f jones and his many relationships [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M, Uuhhh, existential crisis slightly i guess, hetalia? in my 2017?, its rly pointless i just wanted to write rusame, theyre assholes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 03:09:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11282541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gannonic/pseuds/gannonic
Summary: “amerika,” you greet, not bothering to open your eyes. nobody else would make it into your room, or have that fat of an ass.“dunderfuck,” alfred greets, eloquent as ever.





	i know enough about doubt and hating myself

ideally, waking up at 3 am would have been nicer without the cold touch of steel to the back of your neck.

“amerika,” you greet, not bothering to open your eyes. nobody else would make it into your room, or have that fat of an ass.

“dunderfuck,” alfred greets, eloquent as ever.

you feel something cold and slimy on your cheek and wonder if alfred was, in his terms, ‘jerkin’ it’. taking the risk of opening your eyes, you find that, no, he was not defiling your face with his body fluids, and he definitely was not eating his greasy, capitalist slob over you, because if he was you’d kill him.

you roll over like the elegant grizzly bear you are, throwing him off you and wiping the crap off your face. you're barely concerned about how the fatass falls off your bed, and youre even less concerned about the gun, because while you’re fully confident that while your little amerika hates you, he loves your dick.

you ponder how likely alfred is to commit necrophilia, and suddenly you are very concerned about the gun.

“dumbass!” alfred yells, and he really is such a charmer. something close to joy fills you when you see the large bruise on his head. if only you hadn't been dead inside for years.

you let out a pleased hum, noting the way alfred hadn't bothered reaching for his favoured weapon. good, that meant it was empty, and you have once again overestimated alfred's ability to not be a huge pussy.

‘i came all this way to see you, and you greet me with a concussion? not cool man, not cool. when have i ever treated you that way, huh?’

you raise an eyebrow and stare pointedly at the gun. you’re oddly relieved alfred seems to not be in a state of idiocy today (well, not idiocy for him,), because he actually picks up on your cue. “pfft, that? use your big boy brain, vanny! necrophilia is gross,” his laugh is as obnoxious as the rest of him, and you’re willing to call his bluff from some certain sexts between you two.

you sit up and look in dismay at the mess on your floor. ukraine had just gone through the trouble of cleaning it for you, too. “what if i want to die, hm? i'm sure england would be glad to take care of you for me.”

you’ll never get tired of the way he splutters. its cute, shows exactly his youth compared to yours, and the way he turns red is very appetizing. “ew! gross! grossgrossgross! me and iggy would never, you-you disgusting, homophobic fucknut-”

“let us not bring up politics,” you say brightly, the smile on your face sure to piss him off further. “especially considering state of your government at moment.”

he’s silent before he lays down beside you. “fuck off,” he mumbled into your pillow- your favourite pillow- and you can just imagine the circle of drool it will leave. 

you pat his shoulder. “if helps, i will not let england have you when i die.”

“i’m so fucking sure.”

you lay beside him and spoon him, because he knows you know he likes being the little spoon, and even though your arm doesn't wrap around his middle you still press little kisses into his neck. “what is wrong? i know our teasing does not cause this much sad in you.”

“man... you’re not really going to like, die, right?” he won't face you, but he relaxes under your touch. “because that would suck. i'm not going to miss you or anything, but you do some pretty good hatefucking.”

he’s so full of bullshit it’s almost endearing. 

the two of you are often like this, but you're not sure who, if anyone, looks past the hate to see how positively wonderful the two of you are. you could rule (and destroy) the world together. you could tear each other apart, but you’re sure if alfred ever burns, you’d want to burn with him. nobody has ever made quite an impression on you the way he has, and you don’t think anybody will.

“i will not die until you do, подсолнух.” you promise, and kiss his cheek. “pick up shit, now, then cuddles.”

he groans and rolls off his bed again, saying something about lazy communists in spanish, and you smile so wide it starts to hurt.

**Author's Note:**

> ivan called alfred a sunflower i wanna die
> 
> [my tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/chadlos)


End file.
